In the ultimate betrayal of dads, George Clooney is becoming a dad.
I thought the rules were clear. As the rest of us staggered into the workforce, got hitched, moved into humble abodes and started families, Mr. Clooney would reject all of this. We’d shoulder the burden of domestic life and human procreation and, in return, he’d swan around red carpets and Italian manors, allowing us to live vicariously through his grin, swagger, fortune and playboy exploits.
Whether we were changing a diaper at 3 a.m. or watching Frozen three times in a row on an idle Sunday, our minds could escape: “I wonder what George is doing right now. I bet he’s playing poker on a yacht in the Mediterranean. Or maybe he’s breaking up with that cocktail waitress to date that supermodel. Or maybe he’s unveiling a new line of tequila and bespoke cigars. Or maybe …”
The key to the fantasy was that he was never doing what we were doing.
It was never: “I wonder what George is doing right now. I bet he’s also scrubbing vomit off his jogging pants. Or maybe he’s wandering aimlessly in the kitchen with bags under his eyes. Or maybe he’s narrating a ga-ga, goo-goo chat between a plastic rattle and Sophie the Giraffe as he forgets what day it is.”
Fatherhood was our responsibility. Clooney’s one duty was to never join our ranks. But he shattered this pact on Thursday when news broke that he and Amal, his lovely and brilliant wife, are expecting twins.
Two babies all at once? This for the man who once said, “I’ve always known fatherhood wasn’t for me”? Clooney should not be a dad any more than Spider-Man should be petrified of heights. It’s wrong. The only time a Baby Bjorn should ever be strapped to his torso is if he’s carrying Danny DeVito during a wacky Nespresso shoot. If he’s pushing a stroller, it better be full of designer shoes.
For crying out loud, Clooney didn’t even know you’re not supposed to mention a pregnancy until after your partner clears the 12-week ultrasound.
“I was working with him last fall and he pulled me aside on set and I mean, I almost started crying,” his pal Matt Damon told ET Canada on Thursday, recalling the moment he learned Amal was pregnant. “And I was like, ‘How far along is she?’ And he goes, ‘Eight weeks.’ ”
To which Damon, a father of three, snapped: “Are you out of your mind?! Don’t tell anybody else! Don’t tell anybody else! Don’t you know the 12-week rule?”
Of course he doesn’t know the 12-week rule! In the ’90s, Clooney had flings that didn’t last a long weekend. He probably thinks the “12-week rule” refers to the period in which you’re allowed to keep an Armani tux before dousing it with kerosene and getting Bill Murray to chuck it into Lake Como.
Footloose with material and carnal excess — that’s how life was supposed to be for the man who’s been called a Casanova more times than the actual Giacomo Casanova. Doing what he wants, not getting tied down, this was the MO for Clooney who was hailed “the world’s most eligible bachelor” pretty much from the start of ER to The Monuments Men in 2014, the year he married Amal in Venice.
We dads underestimated their love. Sure, we had concerns about the wedding. But as we sauntered out of Chuck E. Cheese that weekend, we figured: “Amal is a busy lawyer. She is solving problems far more complex than the third act of Syriana. They’ll never have time for kids. George will still be our emissary in the fast lane whenever we slow down to catch our breath in the parking lot of Baby Gap.”
But now he’s reneged on the deal. And dads everywhere should pull a Trump and let Clooney know we will SEE YOU IN COURT. That’s right, Georgie Boy. You can’t just go from Soderbergh’s Ocean’s Eleven to Gymboree’s Crazy 8 with no warning. We should hire Amal to represent us. She specializes in human rights, yes? Well, the beautiful children they are about to have — one boy, one girl — clearly violate our human rights as dads who relied upon Clooney’s crazy life to keep us sane.
This is class-action selfishness.
Beyoncé is expecting twins. Madonna just adopted twins. Hollywood is chock-a-block with multiples. The world will be sufficiently turbulent over the next four years without Clooney fumbling with rash ointment as tabloids like In Touch pump out treacle about how he’s “gone from never wanting to be a father to being totally excited about Amal’s pregnancy and the thought of raising two children who will call him Dad.”
That is just disgusting. Shame on you, George.
We dads needed you more.
vmenon@thestar.ca
vmenon@thestar.ca
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